


Distraction (White Noise)

by Canary (MirrorLady)



Series: Survive [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BUT ITS TOO LATE, Drinking, Drugs, I'm a mean person, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith realises, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Not, Or not, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This is langst, i am the absolute worst, im sorry, it's a happy ending, lance dies, this is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:07:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorLady/pseuds/Canary
Summary: Lance isn't fine. At all.Or the four times Lance distracted himself, and the one time Keith realised what was going on, just in time.)Suicide, drugs, drinks, mentions of sex, depressed Lance. Read at your own risk!





	Distraction (White Noise)

**Author's Note:**

> So let's be clear. I wrote this for fun.
> 
> Yes, this is fun.
> 
> So it's Langst, and it's sort of like those 5+1 things that I like so much. See end for more details.
> 
> Enjoy!

**1)** **Sex**

Lance was the King of strange ideas.

This is a fact, not an opinion. His ideas range from genius to plain moronic, but only he can so subtly convey something and defuse tension so seamlessly.

But people don't appreciate how deep Lance can really get. Smiling faces make the best masks. Smiling faces don't ask for anything back.

 _Just don't you feel too bad_  
_When you get fooled by smiling faces_

Most of the time. Of course, no one really pays mind when he flirts with humanoid aliens (girl or boy or in between? Who the fuck cares, you’re hot.) No one seems to really care when he wanders markets or gets laid or gets half a dozen piercings. And Lance is torn between happiness at all this freedom that comes with not being really good at anything and disappointed about it.

So it’s one of those dull days when no one had needs for the seventh wheel that Lance wanders in the Tirlin market. He likes this planet. It had a pink-orange sky and gave him the feeling of being permanently stranded in sunrise. He also likes the ground, which is covered in a sort of plant that’s red, with bell-like leaves. Basically, this may be one planet where he actually doesn’t want to leave.

But when you’re alone, no one’s there to stop you from bad thoughts.

Lance knew that he virtually brought nothing to the team, in fact, he was dragging them down. So spending a lot of time with them, even with Pidge and Hunk, was painful, to say the least. And Lance was a pro at running from his problems.

He fingered the scar on his left arm, absent-mindedly wondering what would have happened to him if he'd succeeded back when he was fifteen.

In his defence, Papa and Mama had just divorced, the twins were bratty, and Gwen had no time to take care of him. His school grades plummeted, he got into a brawl, and he'd gotten high. Frequently.

So his dysthymia may have convinced him that suicide may be the only way to rid the world of its worthlessness.

He remembered waking up in a hospital, to hugs and tears and love. He remembered promising his mother that he would never, ever attempt something like this. He remembered feeling loved and wanted and appreciated. Soon after, he'd found space and Kerberos and Garrison and a goal was enough to keep most of the bad thoughts away. Most of them, anyway.

Depression never entirely left you. Chemicals were chemical spills for him, and chemistry was an excuse for him to study his brain.

Lance sighed. There was no use getting upset. There was no use living in the past. What was done was done, and he was living to see his family. That was his ultimate goal.

Too bad it wasn't enough. Maybe it was because of PTSD, or his cutting, or age. Maybe he'd run out of luck when he tried to kill himself.

Lance looked around, admiring the stalls. One, in particular, caught his attention. It was a pharmaceutical. Lance walked over to negotiate with the female looking Urlak(the native species).

It was covered in those belled plants and yellow fabric. It was cheery and nice, and Lance was encouraged enough to tap the lady-creature and smile.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm here for some numbing tablets or something similar." She turned to him and smiled a toothy grin, revealing rows of teeth.

"Paladin! I would be honoured to help someone esteemed as you! What would you like? I have some Rhaeniyir bottles and Clined tablets." She went to the back and placed both in front of him.

One was a blue-glass bottle with a high-tech cork in it, and Lance took one sniff of it and realised it was really strong. Perfect. He smiled back.

"I'll take this, please. I'll buy as much as I can, and if you have something to sober me up quickly, I'll take a lot of those." So basically, Lance ended up buying the store's supply of Rhaeniyir bottles and Elentori pills. It was easy to sneak into his lion and place these in one of the many cabinets meant for liquids.

He wanders back out again when it becomes clear no one needs him. Not that they ever do. Lance stifled a sigh and walked out when he caught the eyes of a beautiful Urlak man. Lance smiles. Why not? He saunters next to me, puts on his beautiful face, and mindlessly follows the man.

 _His breath and mine_  
_so clearly intertwined_  
_and it's carnal but fine_  
_no emotions tonight._

Despite what everyone says, Lance is pretty enough to get action, when he really wants it.

  
Lance stumbles back to the castle, sore and satisfied. He's exhausted enough to quickly eat dinner without much commentary and flirting, and bleary enough to miss the way Keith sniffs suspiciously and flinches, slightly. Hunk takes one look at Lance's dopey smile and decides to confront him tomorrow. Pidge and Shiro blatantly avoid him, Pidge for not being near after-sex Lance, and Shiro because he isn't sure if he's supposed to give the Talk or not. Allura looks slightly stunned, for some reason, like she can't believe that Lance would have...But of course, Lance doesn't really notice this. He's too tired and is ready to faceplant into the goo.

Lance throws his under armour into the wash and jumps into his bed without even applying his nightly facial routine. He'll regret this in the morning, but no one gave a fuck on how he looked like anyway. He's curled up into a ball, and while he's sore as fuck, is happy to have gotten some action.

Because while sex doesn't cure depression or homesickness, or PTSD, it did wear him out.

And that was the best thing he could ask for under the conditions.

 

* * *

 

 **2)** **Drugs**

His mother would be ashamed of him.

His mother is pretty liberal when it comes to most things. She let Roberto and Mia marry when Mia got pregnant. She was fine with Este being a trans girl. She was downright amazing when Lance came out as bisexual. And maybe it's because of their culture, but it's common for Dad and all the uncles to drink beer on those especially hard, tiring days. 

But Mama draws the line when it comes to drugs. She doesn't approve of drinking, but hey, what can she do? But drugs are a no-no. Lance can still remember the fit she threw when Emilia and her no-good friends brought that white powder home. She threatened to kick them out, disown Emi because she wouldn't stand them ruining their lives.

Well, there was nothing she could do in the dark soul-sucking void of outer space.

Lance took a swig of the Rhaeniyir liquid. It's numbing a makes him stop feeling things so vividly. He likes the way he sees things too. Like the shadows turn into his sisters and brothers, and they pull him to dance. He giggles, airy and light. Where did that bed come from anyway? He feels the lurch of it coming back up, and in one sober second runs and vomits up the Rhaeniyir into his sink. He's still sort of high, though, and face-plants into his pillow. Never mind that the sobering pills are nearby. He likes this feeling. He loves it when he can't feel anything but the sensations. And Lance gets up to dance again. His mother smiles, happily.

He feels the needle pricks on his skin, and he marvels at the goosebump like marks on his skin. He likes the vivid patterns on the walls, the dizziness. He loves feeling overwhelmed by these sensations. He doesn't have to feel depressed. He doesn't. The drugs anchor him and make him swim along.

 

Because if he stopped. If he stopped. He would remember that he was worthless. He was nothing, nonexistent. 

Did he really exist? Did he? Was he really alive?

 

Lance took another swig and giggled. This stuff was great.

* * *

 

**3)Alcohol**

 

  
You can't blame him for dancing. It's in the deep thrum of the drums and vibrations. His hips shake and twirl as the female Tirli in front of him spun him around. He was dizzy, but he loved the airborne feeling. She was taller than him, and the fruity drink he'd had before this was doing him no favours.

It settled in his stomach as he smiled, happily for the first time in a long time. He feels airy like he's flying. He's leaving his burdens on the floor while he flies.  
  
The Tirli is pale and translucent, veins clearly showing. She's pretty, but not his type. But it doesn't matter because the dance involves switching partners, and soon he's tossed to the next partner. This Tirli is clearly male, and he's taller and far more willowy than the female. In this race, Lance recalls in a brief moment of sobriety that in this race, the males are prettier. And this guy is. Lance leans up, this man's breath touching his, and he tastes like pineapples. He likes how he feels right now. He feels beautiful.

Lance is pretty. The coat and formal attire he's wearing make him look like a pretty prince. Long sleeves cover his wrists and a ribbon in his hair (which is far longer now). His boots are cute too. Ooh, dizzily, Lance is tossed to the next partner. A female. She's unsteady too, and Lance has nothing but admiration for this race of partying nymphs. Lance presses his lips on her, and she slowly broke off from the main dance into a corner and Lance knows where this is going. He's happy and powerless against her strong grip. He smiles dopily as they make their way-

-a sudden jerk back. What? Lance turns back to see a familiar mullet. Keith pulls him back, near the punch table. Lance has half a mind to complain, yell at him for interrupting, but Lance catches a glimpse of the chalices full of that fruity fermented stuff. He chugs a whole cup down before Keith manages to drag him away, toward the balcony.

"Keith...if you wanted me alone, you could've just asked." The shorter boy flushed suddenly at Lance's slurred voice. Keith looks pretty too.

They're wearing something similar, only Keith looks more like a princess, with his long hair in a bun. Keith's coat is longer and fancier, with slits on both sides and the alien equivalent of skinny jeans underneath. Lance can see the assortment of knives underneath, and can't help but roll his eyes.

"You idiot." Keith's voice is quiet but furious. Lance is confused. What did he screw up now?

"It's not a good rep for Voltron if you keep making out with our hosts! And where do you think you were going? These people are dangerous, Lance!" And Lance feels bad. He's fucked up again.  
  
"Whatever, Keith. These people clearly like a good party. And so what if we fucked? No one cares what I do on my free time!" Lance is furious. Why can't Keith leave him alone? Why does Keith have to try to show him up now?

Lance turns to leave as Keith grabs his arm in a death grip. "You're not going anywhere, Lance! Clearly, we can't trust you to be responsible!" Lance pulls away, pushing Keith back.

Keith looks shocked. "Keith, I know you're like the golden boy here." Keith opens his mouth to argue, but Lance cuts him off. "But as the official screw-up, I get to be the fuckboy." Lance stared at him, drunk and sad and deadly serious.

Keith sighed and gave him a steady look."You are not the screw-up. You're anything but. In fact-" Lance held up his hand.

"Save it, you don't need to lie to make me stay. I'm not going to collapse because I'm worthless, Keith." Lance storms away, running as soon as he's out of sight. Keith stares at his back in shock.

Lance runs to his room and rips off his coat and boots, the fancy clothes that proved a pig was still a pig, even with makeup. Tears flood down his face and Lance throws the clothes in the incinerator.

He looks for Rhaeyinir, only to find an empty bottle. Great.  
He cries himself to sleep.

* * *

 

**4) Pain**

Withdrawal sucked. And even without withdrawal, Lance was still not the best in mental health. He hasn't been, and they haven't been able to form Voltron because of him. He's holding them back. He's to blame. It's hard to breathe. His insides are choking him.

_Not all that glitters is gold._

  
So back to depression 101. You can do a lot with a sharpened fork. No one knows, and the blade falls.

Shallow slashes covered his upper arms and shoulders. He had plenty on his thighs as well. And he knows he should stop before he goes too far. He knows.

But the pain feels good in a twisted way.

Don't get him wrong, okay? He knows it's pain. He still shudders from it. He still feels the way the blade tears his skin, and how the blood wells up, and how the bandages feel against the incisions.

But at least its pain he can control.  
At least the pain distracts him from the pain in his heart.

He was alone, he was always alone, and maybe the curse of depression wasn't sadness or suicidal thoughts. Maybe it was the permanent feeling of being alone no matter where you were. In a crowd, in a party. On a phone call, when chatting with someone.

Maybe that's what drove people insane. Being so alone, feeling like no one would ever come to them, notice them.

Lance is alone, isn't he? And Lance doesn't even have his family anymore. Lance wants to be buried on Earth, near Varadero beach.

And Lance takes one look at his wrist and realises how long he's been waiting for this. He understands what went wrong last time. And with two deep cuts, Lance leans back on the wall.

They lie. ~~They say death is painless. Pretty. Peaceful.~~

It's not. It's painful, and Lance feels his heartbeat slow down, and his eyes are tearing up, and it's all blurry and dark, and he feels like shit. It's not okay that he's done this for the second time. It's not fine at all.

The door slides open, but by then Lance cant feel anything. He hears screams or cries or something, but it's like.. muffled. Muffled. What a strange word. If only Lance could have muffled his brain. If only Lance didn't want to be numb. If only chemical spills were contained properly.

A swish of red and black. A yellow blob. A green streak.

**Black.**

 

* * *

 

**+1)**

  
Keith was never good with emotions.

Maybe if he'd had a better, more constant childhood, he would have curbed his bluntness. People were enigmas to him. The only feelings he could readily detect were anger and boredom, both dangerous moods in most of those foster homes. He's done bad things, wrong things, sad things to survive. He's broken his heart so much that all that really remains is a black rock.

But his heart twists in grief when he sees Lance floating in animation.

His skin is bruised and scarred, and his brain is fucked up. His wrists are bloody and gory and Keith has a strange sort of magnetism to them. They're disgusting, but something about them holds him.

And Keith understands.

Lance tried to kill himself. Allura has confirmed that this is the second time in his life. Somehow, that makes it even worse. Lance felt low enough to relapse.

And while Keith is emotionally constipated, he knows what he's feeling.

Guilt. Why hadn't he noticed? He'd known something had been wrong. He had. He could smell the pheromones on Lance's skin, the vacant bubbly look of him being high, the sadness of his sobriety.

Anger. Why had Lance turned to random strangers to make him feel good, to drugs and drinks to numb him, when Keith was here! When the team was here for him! Hunk looked ready to tear apart something with his hands, and Pidge was sobbing loudly. Shiro looked fucked up, and Allura shocked and numb.

Coran was a ghost. He couldn't bear it.

Anguish. They nearly hadn't saved him. It was only luck that had taken Keith there, luck that the others were close enough, that they had healing pods. That...that...Keith had come so close to losing someone so precious to him.

 

_**Keith loves Lance.** _

 

Because as sad as the others were, and angry as they were...only Keith was absolutely destroyed. Only he was heartbroken to this degree. He leaned close to Lance's face, not getting any closer because of the glass.

He's beautiful. He's beautiful and broken and Keith cant loves him more.

The pod suddenly hissed as Lance fell forward into Keith, knocking both of them to the ground.

"Lance!" The collective is full of tears, smiles, and relief. Coran runs in, Allura wiping away tears, as Pidge throws herself into the ground and squeezes Lance as his eyes flutter open.

Blue eyes. "Guys?" He's hoarse, and Lance pulls away and curls into himself, blankly looking at his wrists. Keith's breath catches in his chest, as he leans forward and wraps Lance in an embrace, the tears he was holding back finally coming out. He's sobbing now, like a baby, as Shiro comes behind him and everyone gathers for a fucked up group hug. Keith wipes away his tears, failing.  
"Don't you ever do that again! Lance, don't ever leave again, please don't, I'm begging you, don't, please don't..."Keith is babbling but he couldn't care less. Lance is alive. Lance is okay.

Lance smiled a watery smile, locking away the thoughts in his head as they clambered to get out. He was okay. They'd realised. He was... dizzy, and everything was blurry. He was flying.

 

**_"Lance!"_ **

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there may be confusion.
> 
> Lance is depressed, and he likes to wear himself so he can distract himself. These are like different ways he distracts himself, thus the title white noise.
> 
> Keith can tell Lance had sex because of his Galra heritage, so...he can literally smell the sex on him. (Poor Keith.)
> 
> To be clear, Rhaeniyir is a drug. An alien drug that causes numbing and hallucinations. And when he runs out, he's in withdrawal, which is usually a sign of healing. But withdrawal is horrible to experience. 
> 
> And the End....You can choose whether Lance lives or dies. I guess if enough people ask, I'll write a companion or sequel or something. Depends on me, really.
> 
> So any more questions, feel free to ask. Kudos are appreciated, and comments are enjoyed. 
> 
> signing off,  
> Canary


End file.
